The week in Dalaran flew by completely unnoticed. Yes, on the first day, I was naturally floored by the beauty and wonders of the city; I wanted to crawl over and inspect literally everything. It was very pleasant and fun to spend time with my parents—thanks to the Magister for that, as I hadn't thought to suggest it myself. I have no complaints there; on the contrary, I'm truly grateful for that first day.
But after that? After that, everyone has their own life, they all have things to do, and only I am sitting by the Pepelats like a fool. My parents have their affairs at home; they need to run the household. Jaina is in the Council tower; she needs to report everything we encountered in Stratholme and decide what to do with all that information. Venidan vanished into The Underbelly to drink and indulge in debauchery, probably only lacking succubi with strap-ons, ahem. And even then, I'm not sure she's without them.
So I was left alone on the landing pad, left to my own devices. And around me lives a magical city that doesn't care about a single Elf. Great, right? Not at all; I feel abandoned, even though I know that's not the case.
Gnomes, Humans, Elves—they are all busy with their own affairs. They pass by, absorbed in their problems, hurrying or strolling, searching and finding.
Technicians are working on the Pepelats, changing everything they possibly can. The ship's mechanisms are partially disassembled to clad it in metal. The bridge has been completely dismantled; all its external plating will be replaced with much higher quality and more durable materials. As a result—for the first time since its creation—the Pepelats is effectively stripped down to its elements and completely non-combat-ready.
This also means that technicians are poking into every crevice and peering into every room, which irritates me greatly. But there's nothing to be done. No one cares what I think, and the feeling is mutual.
Magic students stroll through the streets of Dalaran, sometimes sober, sometimes not so much, sometimes in the company of individuals of clearly diminished social responsibility. Traders, Mages, wanderers, Warriors, mercenaries, and who knows who else walk, ride, and levitate about their business. And no, the transport doesn't guarantee the social status of the traveler; I recall Antonidas rides a horse, and he's fine with it.
By the way, Dalaran actually has such a thing as traffic rules. You can't just wander everywhere on a mount like in the game; you might accidentally run someone over. On the city's major streets, there is a pedestrian zone and a roadway separating those who walk from those who ride. Want to move everywhere without worrying about traffic jams and without walking? Buy a flying disk or a chair and go for it. Except there are no traffic lights or speed limits; here, you survive however you can. As long as you haven't hit anyone, there will be no complaints against you.
On the morning of the second day, Venidan returned. Rumpled, but very satisfied. It seems someone is having a good time. While someone else has to work and wait for official events—you chicken! You could have at least bought a cake as an apology and to lift the spirits of the suffering. At my indignant look, Veni winced and wheezed:
"Little one, don't ask questions so I don't have to lie, okay? Or are you trying to kill me with your eyes? It doesn't work like that; you need a good icicle at the very least."
As if I can't smell the hangover. But she's right; I shouldn't take it out on those around me, especially if they aren't to blame for my problems.
"As long as you're spending your own money, Veni, I don't care. As if I don't know what you're spending it on. I might be small, but not that small."
The Rogue turned around with interest:
"And on what, exactly?"
I snorted.
"On whoring, debauchery, and drugs. And yes, I already know that the infrastructure of your brotherhood is located under the city. The Goblins told me."
Well, it's boring not talking to anyone at all, so I chat with the technicians. There's everyone there: Gnomes—the majority—Dwarves, and Goblins. Quite a diverse set of personalities with different attitudes toward life and connections.
Gnomes, holding a proud second place in population and owning about eighty percent of the technical shops. Dwarves and their Arms and metal products. And alcohol—where is a Dwarf without alcohol? And then the Goblins, whose markets and shops can be found in places you'd never guess. For the latter, Dalaran is a supplier from which all this good stuff disperses across all the Eastern Kingdoms. Humans can dislike Goblins all they want, but they definitely have mass teleport scrolls for sale. And a protection ring. And claws. And potions can be found, if you just pay.
And yes, Goblins don't just deal in reselling the city's magical products at triple the price, or quadruple... they also do mercenary work and other commerce of varying degrees of legality. Zeltzer Mazgoflus has already suggested I sign up as a mercenary, by the way. He said that after Stratholme, I'd have a very decent resume for a rookie, and he's even ready to help with clients for a small percentage of the earnings. Now there's someone who doesn't care about age, gender, or other trifles if you want to make money. From the Goblins' perspective, I'm not a little Elf, but a tall Gnome or something like that. Put on a mask to hide the face, or a helmet, and everyone will be fine with it. Zeltzer said as much. I didn't refuse; I'll think about it when I have time. Gold is never redundant, no matter what anyone says.
Veni, realizing I had learned bad things in her absence, winced.
"If your parents find out, they'll strangle me. Remember, you don't know about anything except bakeries with sweets. And that fountain where the whole city throws coins with wishes."
I couldn't help myself then.
"Is it really so bad that you have to ask me that? Veni, do a good deed—don't screw up the ship. Without aerial transport, we won't make it anywhere in time."
The Elf gave a tragic sigh.
"Well, you see the state I'm in, don't you? I've learned my lesson and realized everything. No more, never again."
Yeah, I see. About the "learned my lesson" part—I believe you. But as for "realized"—no. This is just my assumption, of course, but it seems to me you decided to relive your past as a rich girl before you ran off to the army. Obviously, they didn't suffer from sobriety or abstinence there. All the things that are quite difficult to do in the Rangers, sitting in a field camp in the forest with Trolls. In short, it just pisses me off.
"In such a terrible state that you'll go back there again, Veni."
She shook her head.
"No, enough. I've had enough. Definitely enough."
Uh-huh, I believe you. To be fair, advocating for a healthy lifestyle isn't my business; each of us ruins ourselves however we like. I can grumble, but in the end, I'm not her mother to decide for her. She's a hundred and twenty, I'm twenty—who should be looking after whom? In any case, the second day passed just like the first, in the same vein. Blueprints, technicians, and waiting for someone to remember me. Veni, predictably, vanished again in the evening. Fine then.
On the morning of the third day, Jaina arrived. The wizardess was in a state of extreme contemplation and nearly walked into me. Now that's interesting! Naturally, I had to find out immediately what was going on.
"Jaina, don't sleep, don't trip, and don't stall! What's the news?"
She recoiled, looking me over and then at the disassembled Pepelats as if seeing it for the first time. And well, yes, I bought myself a Gnomish hunting ghillie suit. I don't know why; maybe I liked it, or maybe just out of spite and a desire to actually do something. Anyway, I have it now. Jaina sighed and asked:
"Forgive me, Davi, hello. Can we talk without witnesses?"
I nodded and waved a hand toward the ship.
"There's a portal open to my home there. I know a good place where no one will be able to overhear us."
Jaina Proudmoore agreed; she was likely curious about how I live. And I really didn't think we'd be overheard there. Through the portal, we moved to the courtyard of the Magister's tower. Naturally, I gave her a tour.
"Elves have their own, rather unique logic of settlement. With Humans, Mages are concentrated around the Kirin Tor. With us, after moving from Kalimdor, everyone settled wherever they wanted, quite freely. Mage towers of all levels are scattered throughout Quel'Thalas. I think Dalaran was one of those settlements before Humans and Elves decided to live together. Around it is a village that the Mage protects and which supplies him with everything."
Unexpectedly, Jaina interrupted me.
"Wait. Kalimdor? What do you know about it? Do you know what we might encounter there?"
Oh. I hadn't thought about that. Obviously, under the guise of history textbooks, I could leak some information to the Systems Alliance expedition about what awaits them on the other side. And even somehow draw the local wildlife. I might not be an artist, but I've learned to draft; I can draw something more or less intelligible, and it won't even look particularly scary. That sounds like a plan!
"You're in luck, Jaina Proudmoore. Let's go to my house for writing supplies. It's a mess, of course, but there should be paper. I'll try to draw the local fauna for you, and describe it, of course. I'm warning you now: don't laugh, I was never a good artist. I'll have to learn."
Jaina nodded sagely, and we went to my house, greeting all the neighbors. Actually, after my escape, the village was restored. There were a couple of abandoned houses left, like the master's, which simply had no one to restore them, but that was more the exception to the rule. The neighbors were happy to see me; they looked at Jaina with polite curiosity but didn't pry with questions. They'd likely ask my parents later. After all, guests in our parts, especially Human Mages, are a rarity. And here was such a news story!
My room met its owner—me—with desolation. The furniture had been replaced, yes, but so many things had been destroyed by the frost waves. Fortunately, paper was found, as were writing supplies. But I still felt a certain sting of guilt from what I saw.
"The room was wrecked during my escape from the Paladins, so most of my things were destroyed and replaced with new ones, alas," I explained to the wizardess, "and now, briefly about what lives on Kalimdor. The first thing you should remember: Kalimdor is a wild land. The peoples there don't have kingdoms in the sense we're used to, but they occupy specific territories. That's how it was before; there's no reason to think much has changed. Those long-eared zoophiles haven't even had a generation pass yet, let alone a change in government structure."
Jaina asked for paper and began taking notes, while I drew various creatures, shamelessly spoiling who lives where and how. There was something amusing and ironic about the fact that I was effectively giving Jaina a lecture. I had butterflies from realizing exactly what I was doing. But there was logic in it—the Alliance Expedition in the original moved almost blindly, having little idea of what they needed to do or where. I don't have maps of that territory, but I can tell them at least about the species and races. What lies where, who is dangerous for what. That will definitely be useful.
"There are several major species in the northern half of Kalimdor. The far north is occupied by wretched savages, degraded and having forgotten their past. They call themselves Night Elves."
Jaina gave a knowing smile.
"It seems you don't like them," the wizardess noted the obvious.
I nodded.
"Of course I don't like them; before the future High Elves left our common home, there was a civil war over which Mages were good and which weren't. Ideas were even put forward for the total extermination of Mages, so don't expect your staff to carry any authority with them. Quite the opposite—it'll be a reason to whine about the benefits of druidism. On one hand, it's stupidity, of course; on the other, there are many of them and they are strong enough, so be careful. Also, they can't stand it when someone cuts down their 'sacred forest,' damn zoophiles. They really don't like it, to the point of shooting to kill."
Next was a long lecture on who lives where. Furbolgs in the Elven forests in the north. Tauren, Harpies, and Centaurs living in The Barrens. Yes, a huge bipedal cow the size of an Ogre, and just as strong. No, not a joke; they are extremely dangerous. Also, in the mountains, you might run into Quilboars and Kobolds, primitive cave dwellers. But no one can say who is where and in what numbers; most of these creatures simply aren't developed enough. Along the way, I clarified:
"How is the gathering of the expedition progressing?"
Jaina spread her hands.
"Slowly. I don't have my father's influence to act faster. No, in time I will get everything done, but just don't expect it to take less than a couple of months. After all, we're talking about an expedition to another continent; we need to gather as many valuable resources as possible, find people, and prepare the ships for a long crossing."
I nodded with full understanding.
"I have no complaints. I think the daughter of the Admiral of Kul Tiras understands this better than humble me. I see no point in arguing with a specialist."
Jaina waved that off.
"Alas, I'm not as much of a specialist as I'd like to be. But thank you anyway."
I should be glad that everything for Jaina is going according to the script. Because for me, the scriptwriter is clearly playing for the other team. No, I'm not sure, but it's possible. Yes, I admit that Antonidas might have understood more than necessary from our conversation, asked questions, and gotten answers, and that's exactly why the meeting with him didn't happen. But there's no proof, just an "unfortunate coincidence that happened very conveniently."
In short, it's unclear again—is it the Bronze Dragonflight interfering with changing the timeline, or are the Archmages just so loaded they're busy with more important matters? Both options are possible. So I nodded to Jaina.
"I'm sure everything will be as it should. The Prophet... he's a very controversial figure, but he's not wrong," I decided to change the subject, "what else should I tell you?"
Jaina thought for a moment and then asked:
"And when the Prophet spoke of the interest of the Bronze Dragonflight, was he not lying either? About you?"
Ahem, she did remember our little spat after all. Not good, but oh well.
"It's true. By my actions, I caused, let's call it a misunderstanding. I can understand their actions, but not agree. Our interests contradict each other, let's put it that way."
The wizardess laughed.
"You know, I sympathize with your teacher. It must be very difficult for him to keep track of a student who is either quarreling with dragons, getting tangled up with Trolls, or charging into cities besieged by the Undead."
I wanted to say "look who's talking," but considering Antonidas's possible death, it wasn't so funny anymore. Who knows, Jaina might bring it up later. But it was worth clarifying.
"And what about that meeting you mentioned? In three days, the Prophet is supposed to arrive, and I will leave Dalaran."
Jaina sighed with clear regret.
"The conversation might not happen, from what I've heard. The Council of Six sat for two days, and then the teacher immediately departed for the capital, to His Majesty King Terenas. The news we brought shocked many. I personally spoke before the council and saw their reaction; they were very disturbed by all of this. The King refused to react in any way without proof, but now that Stratholme is destroyed, they won't be able to just close their eyes to it. So I'm sorry, but it looks like we'll have to manage on our own. I was looking for information for Arthas; if you want, we can go together. That's the most I can do now."
I can imagine. The single name Kel'Thuzad could cause the Mages' teeth to grind; he's a former Mage of the Kirin Tor, and not a minor one. And if you add the mention of Demons and Scholomance to that, with comments from the Elven part of the Council, they could lift Dalaran into the sky on the thrust from their burning asses. Ha. On the other hand, this means I won't have people nagging me, which is actually not bad. I can focus on development at my leisure.
"I agree, Lady Jaina. I've never been to a Magic School; it's truly interesting."
Returning to Dalaran, we headed into the city. Jaina led me to the most famous Dalaran fountain, where it's customary to throw coins with wishes. According to her, literally everyone throws coins into the fountain, including Archmages. Yes, even the Council of Six has done it. Tradition. Of course, I immediately repeated the experiment, wishing for the Trolls, Bronze Dragonflight, and Ner'zhul to discover the wonders of urine therapy.
Next, Jaina and I visited the most serious and one of the most guarded places in the city—The Library of Dalaran. Naturally, Jaina arranged a tour of the Academy of Magic.
And I regret nothing. I'll say right away—this is NOT Hogwarts. Not at all. Hogwarts, however you feel about it, was primarily an English castle and a boarding school filled with wonders. A kind of bridge between the real world and the world of magic, which makes sense given the Muggle-borns. Dalaran isn't like that, not in the slightest. Here, magic is primary, and the academy reflects that fully.
As soon as you step onto the educational institution's grounds, you discover that instead of ordinary guards at the gates, there are golems with magical scanners, and though they are humanoid, it's clearly visible that they are metal magical constructs. Tall and elegant—the Elves at least had a hand in it, at most, it's their project. In fact, it was with them that we underwent identification; Jaina was expectedly recognized and let through, while I was with her as a guest. I was issued a guest card with instructions to return it when I leave.
Next? We found ourselves in impressively sized halls, and it took no small effort to restrain myself from enthusiasm, inspecting and licking literally everything. Everything is magical except the walls, and even those only at first glance. On the second and subsequent glances, the rigid weaves in the walls are almost more numerous than anywhere else. I don't even want to think about the power Archimonde had to exert to bring the city down with that spell. By the way, I want to be able to do that too; I'll have to learn. Or was it not Dalaran he dropped then? I don't remember, actually. Okay, moving on.
The lighting is magical, using purely magical lamps—no candles or kerosene lamps, that's last century, only magical orbs. Flying brooms and brushes, of course. Familiars fly under the ceiling, acting as mail. Golems of all sorts and kinds.
And then there are the sentients—the students, that is. Humans, Gnomes, Elves, dressed in robes with the city's emblems, with wands and staves, incredibly diverse and all very interesting. Many recognized Jaina and greeted her; after all, an Archmage's apprentice is respected. Or maybe it's because I stand out strikingly against the general background with my suit, hat, and shoulder-length glove. But Jaina clearly knows what she's doing, behaving as if this were a convoy rather than a tour.
"To keep them from prying with questions, play along."
And what did I do? I feigned humility. We walked like that for quite a while; the city's educational facilities are not small at all. Separate buildings for lectures. A separate, quite large field for training. And not just fields, but platforms of various heights, test zones, even a whole arena and mock-ups of buildings and walls.
"Yes, the local Mages definitely won't die of modesty."
Jaina laughed.
"This city was built by Mages for Mages. I think when you were studying, you used a lot of space too. The builders simply didn't skimp."
Well, I won't argue with that. Just remember that clearing that became the construction site for the Pepelats. A significant territory where you can hammer away with spells without fear of hitting anyone.
The next two days were spent in the holy of holies of the city. The massive Magic Library! The founders of Dalaran boasted that they had documented and preserved any magic capable of multiplying the city's power. And I can say—yes, I believe it. Everything is here and more. For example, Jaina's teacher, Antonidas, wrote a book: rules for surviving a fire. He has works on Orcs and their magic, and much more. So looking at these ten-meter shelves, lined with rows of literature, I was impressed and realized the full significance of this city. It is literally a symbol of Mages, their capital, their magnum opus.
A mean old gray-haired librarian in a robe let us in but said:
"No noise. Do not damage the books. Do not remove them from the hall. No fighting. No eating. No combat magic. Do not argue with the librarians. The punishment is commensurate with the crime, even for guests. Clear?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
I nodded importantly and with understanding, and we entered THIS PLACE. But almost immediately, we ran into trouble. The librarian, in response to Jaina's question, strictly replied:
"There is no access to the literature you are requesting, especially for guests of the city without permission. Consult the instructors. Without a paper with a signature, I won't give it to you!"
Jaina tried honestly but was met with incomprehension. Since Jaina is Antonidas's personal apprentice, he is the one who should give permission. He's not here, he left? Well, wait a couple of days. He'll return—he'll authorize it. A request from the Prince himself? Then it's even more necessary to wait for the Archmage; he's in the capital right now and will surely authorize it. I don't know anything, urgent or not, no one has revoked the rules. Should I hex you for being so smart?
In short, glory to bureaucracy! This is a standoff that isn't so easily bypassed. And in this case, I really believe the dragons have nothing to do with it.
On the other hand, there's no need to despair. Medivh in Karazhan, being possessed by the spirit of Sargeras, diligently obsessed over Demonology. It's not for nothing that Kel'Thuzad was able to summon Archimonde using Medivh's book of spells, without even being a Biotics user and having read the book only once. I am more than sure I will find enough books on the subject—detailed, with drawings, descriptions, and blueprints.
"Alright, Jaina, no need. Since we're here, let's at least look around," and we went our separate ways to find something interesting to read.
What did I do when I realized there would be no freebies? Runes! The runic language used by Dwarves to create magical weapons and golems. I hadn't had the chance to study it properly, but now I at least know what to look for. Actually, it's very interesting; carving runes with a special magical chisel directly onto a golem or casting them onto a weapon is only one of the stages of creation.
It is a fully-fledged magical programming language, combining weaves and nodal points with specific commands. Runes contain specific spells and magical effects activated by the supply of Mana, allowing, for example, the creation of an explosion upon a hammer strike. And that's the most, most primitive level! If before I was just guessing, now, with the books, I can understand much more.
The students, seeing me in the company of Antonidas's apprentice, showed interest. After all, Archmages are authorities to the locals. Should it be surprising that a cheerful trio of students approached us? A Human male, a female Gnome, and an Elf.
"Lady Jaina, glad to meet you. It seems the investigation was quite productive."
The wizardess looked up from her book and raised an eyebrow, her whole appearance expressing annoyance at being interrupted from her work.
"Did something happen? I'm busy with an important assignment, so please be quick."
The Elf replied.
"Don't worry, we just noticed your... unusual colleague," he said as if thinking it over, "quite unusual equipment for a Mage. She doesn't look like she belongs to the Kirin Tor. We decided to show respect to an obviously important guest."
Yeah, yeah, you're just curious, which I think everyone understood. Jaina looked at me, at my left hand. She already knows it's a magical conductor. Of course, it's worse than her staff, but not every wizardess gets old staves from her mentor and help modifying them for herself. I have to use the crystals I have. Hopefully, I'll find better samples in Karazhan.
"That shouldn't concern you," the wizardess stated strictly, "even the teacher noted her talent for magic mechanics. Otherwise, please excuse me, but I really must work."
At this, the Gnome girl perked up. She hopped over, peering into the book I was still trying to read.
"So you're a technician? Unusual for an Elf. Studying runes? Why not Arcane weaves?"
I simply couldn't ignore the question.
"Mana consumption and certain formations. Runes are less Mana-intensive, more convenient if you're working with modular mechanisms. I want to create a cluster array; it's better than using scrolls. A core and modules, and that requires a different approach than ordinary golem building."
The Gnome immediately demanded, ignoring the looks of those around her:
"Show me. I'm from the faculty of golem building and magic mechanics; maybe I can suggest something."
I don't have the blueprints with me, that's true, but it doesn't mean I can't sketch a general diagram. And I'm truly curious about what she'll say.
"Like this. A magical core and a Force Field, an anti-mass field, and here are the docking ports marked with runes. Separate nodes with limited autonomy. Blocks with different functions. A small power source, runes or a scroll, for different tasks."
The Gnome looked at the sketches, thoughtfully chewing on a pencil.
"Hmm. Modular construction, right? Good. But why runes?" the Gnome grabbed my drawings and began to sketch, "put the energy conduits here and here, on the inner side; energy losses will be lower. That would be better."
Not at all.
"First of all, where am I going to find Mana-conductive materials for all of this at that price? Second, what about control? It's easier with runes; the block connects and the construction immediately receives new protocols written directly into the module."
"But runes use Mana when triggered; the consumption is higher and it's much less compact!" the Gnome countered.
I snorted.
"The difference in size isn't critical."
We got a bit carried away with the argument, but I regret nothing; it's truly curious. I'm interested in learning how other sentient species look at things. Including the same projects I have myself. Until the librarian came and dispersed us under the threat of spending the next week in Polymorph. Because we were too noisy.
Alas, the fun ended there. The next day there were no arguments, and we just read, and then Jaina left. Officially—on a mission. In fact—to prepare the expedition. It wasn't a stormy farewell; we just agreed to keep each other informed of events and news.
And me? I decided to prepare for the departure to Karazhan, especially since there were only twenty-four hours left. The Pepelats is almost assembled; they are mounting the cosmetics, for example, a proper leather pilot's chair made from Hydra hide.
The ship has been substantially transformed. Metal plating—now I don't have to worry about it catching fire. Painted, of course. Four turrets, three of which are magical, of quite decent power. I won't be strafing a single Abomination for a whole minute anymore. The fourth is a rocket block with sixteen homing missiles.
How much is that in the context of Warcraft? A Dwarf Battle Helicopter has two machine guns. Usually, the local fauna has not the heaviest armor and one to three methods of dealing damage with arrows, fire breath, or magic. So right now, the Pepelats is roughly on the level of a dozen Gargoyles. A lot, but it can still be overwhelmed by numbers if there are enough enemies, or if they have sufficiently good magical equipment. This is Azeroth; here, even the most powerful shields hold up poorly against Fel damage or Divine Might magic. But if you exclude those few percent, the Pepelats is significantly above average.
Of course, the situation will change in the future. The Alliance flying ship, when it's created, will have four large-caliber cannons and a dozen and a half smaller ones per side. The Horde's equivalent is also quite respectably hung with weapons. Goblins create such techno-magic that they can already shoot down the Pepelats if necessary. But all of that is a matter of the future; such ships will start being built en masse in a few years. Right now, you can only find equivalents of battle fortresses with the Goblins.
So yes, the Pepelats is now a quite respectable Gunship, with good armor, a Magic Shield, and carrying golems. I think it's something on the level of a medium dragon, though somewhat less maneuverable. Either way, I don't plan on charging into the front lines with it; all this arsenal is needed to protect my hide and provide fire support for the golems from a safe distance.
Of course, as soon as Zeltzer Mazgoflus reported readiness, I didn't believe him. I conducted the tests myself, especially the points that might seem most vulnerable. The hydrogen tank, stabilization systems, mountings, pipes, Mana channels—a full and mandatory check of the weaves and how my transport flies now.
Healthy paranoia is a recipe for a paranoid's health. Especially when the Bronze Dragonflight can gift you an undocumented defect just for preventive purposes. At the same time, I need to find out how the Pepelats's dynamics have changed now that it's much heavier with all the plating and half a thousand rockets on board. Spoiler—not particularly much. Yes, it's become heavier and a bit more sluggish, but not critically; the four jet engines still do the job, and magic solves the problems with mass and inertia.
It's even more interesting with the defects. The thing is, there aren't any. At all. I specifically checked the weaves twice—just the important ones and then the entire block—and found nothing that stood out from the overall picture. Not even the smallest, expected defects; it's as if it was just assembled on that very clearing. Suspicious, but a fact! I would have continued indulging in paranoia, but the sixth day arrived, and waking up in the morning, I found a familiar crow on the outside of the bridge, which spoke with the human voice of Medivh:
"It is time, young sorceress. The trial awaits."
He dropped a door key that had been hanging from his claw.
"Gather your companions and we shall depart. My butler's key will help you enter the tower unhindered."
I was carried away on the wings of magic. Dalaran was still a bit of a disappointment in that I didn't manage to get everything I wanted. I'm still not upset, though; the Guardian's tower promises a whole mass of fascinating discoveries. And the upgrade to the Pepelats is still Revered. Especially because I didn't have to answer for it to Antonidas. Still, Arthas's task remains unfulfilled, and though my personal capabilities have grown, my global influence doesn't look very significant.
But I'm not losing heart, precisely because I consider Karazhan a potential solution to many problems. Not just in terms of knowledge, but materials as well. Books on magic, the likes of which are hard to obtain elsewhere. Including Demonology, exactly what Arthas needs. Crystals that will allow me to refine the gauntlet and finally assemble a magic extractor from the environment. Not to mention ores, wands, scrolls, and other equipment that was simply abandoned when the tower was sealed after the events of the first war.
In short, a mass of opportunities just waiting to be taken. I understand this, and my friends understand it. We've all been preparing for this; we've reached this point. We flew out with the standard roster. Me, Venidan, and two crows. One was the Magister's familiar, who didn't wish to deprive us of living space due to our differing genders; he would arrive via portal once we reached the site. The second was Medivh, showing the way.
"The flight will take about two days," I noted.
Veni huffed, examining the map.
"Fast, very fast. When I first saw it on the map, I wondered how long it would take us to get there."
Well, this was my moment to shine, yes.
"That's why we need such noisy engines. There's enough thrust; we'll fly as high and as fast as possible. I don't want to get into trouble; I want to finish the job quickly. Maybe on the way back we'll stop by a couple of places, like Ironforge, but for now, we need to arrive as soon as possible and get the data. Everything else is secondary."
The Magister's crow, walking across the table, tapped its beak on the marker for Karazhan.
"You should appreciate such an opportunity, Venidan. Unlooted towers of mages are a rarity in our time."
Veni immediately clarified:
"Because usually, it's not this dangerous. I asked. Ghosts and shadows, magical traps, defense systems. Anomalies and mutants, Undead and demons. The Guardian was very bored."
The Magister looked at me, and I snorted. Yes, she's my colleague, and it's up to me to calm her down. I raised an eyebrow and asked:
"Veni, are you actually afraid?"
The elf turned up her nose haughtily, but not for long.
"More like logically cautious," she noted. "I'm not backing out, don't think that. We're going into this together. I'm just not sure everyone understands the level of danger."
I wouldn't say that. I more or less remember what awaits us there, so I have a rough idea of the scale of the headache. But one must remember that during Medivh's Resurrection, a significant portion of the local magical traps was absorbed by the Guardian. So on one hand, it's not that bad. On the other—it's not as good as it could be.
"The main thing now is not to get lost, Veni. You have me, and we have the Teacher. We'll figure it out once we fly there correctly. Hopefully, we won't get lost, or it'll be very unfun."
Dalaran is in the north of the continent. Karazhan is south of Stormwind, meaning the southern part of the continent. To get to the right place, we'll have to fly across the sea, past Kul Tiras, the land of the Dwarves and Dun Morogh, past Blackrock Mountain through the lands of Stormwind. So we are literally flying across the continent from north to south.
And yes, I could fly low, stop by the Dwarves, or even Stormwind itself, but I simply didn't want to. Like I said: we'll see on the way back; right now there's just no time for sightseeing. Better to start by finishing the main job.
So the Pepelats rose as high as possible, right under the clouds, and set a course for the south. The others dispersed—Veni to sleep off her fatigue, the Magister simply left the crow without control. As for me, I sprawled in the brand-new leather pilot's seat, helmet on my head, gauntlet glowing, and enjoyed the flight.
Above us was the infinite cosmic Barrens. Below us rushed lands with a very rich history. Human kingdoms, mountain ranges hiding the cities and clans of the Dwarves. At the end of the day, Blackrock Mountain appeared on the horizon, the home of the corresponding clan. Naturally, I had no desire to go looking for trouble and bypassed the potential problem.
We didn't run into dragons, nor monsters. It was a long but very peaceful flight. And after thirty-some hours, Medivh told us to descend.
"Finding Karazhan won't take long. I feel the presence of the tower."
Two hours later, we found ourselves in a dead valley. Literally dead; there is nothing here. The trees have withered; there isn't even a scent of life. Everything has died. And in the middle of the dead cliffs and withered forest stands a huge, truly massive gray tower with a village at its base and several smaller turrets connected by galleries. Separately, one can note something resembling a fort at the base. No lights are on; no one meets us.
"A crypt," the Magister said, summarizing our collective impression.
I agree, a crypt.
"I'm going to land. Let's see what awaits us. But I'm already curious, Magister."
The crow laughed with a croaking cackle.
"Me too, apprentice. Me too."
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